


Reeducation

by mustang_eddie



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Aftercare, Angst, BDSM, Branding, Carlos is a Good Boyfriend, Cigarettes, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Carlos, Rape, Rope Bondage, Rough Oral Sex, Spoilers for The Auction, Strexcorp, Torture, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 17:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mustang_eddie/pseuds/mustang_eddie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil is taken in for reeducation by StrexCorp for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reeducation

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't seen any torture smut in a while, and you know, why not. Comments are appreciated as always. Thanks so much, and sorry. Just take it, go on.

Carlos was writing his weekly report when the lab doorbell rang. He quickly got up, checking the time. With a jolt, he realized it was 9 at night. Checking the lock and making sure that the lab’s gun was still in the corner, he opened the door. 

Outside on the doorstep was Cecil, arms wrapped around the shoulders of a Sheriff’s Secret Policewoman and an Intern. He was barely upright. 

“Oh my god, Cecil,” Carlos rushed out to grab him. He felt clammy. 

“He was called in to see Strex Management today,” said the intern. “I found him out in the parking lot.” 

“As part of the Sheriff’s Secret Police Force, I’m obligated to tell you that neither of you saw anything. The Voice of Night Vale was aware of this meeting,” the Policewoman directed towards Carlos and the intern, brushing her hair behind her ear. In her ear was an earpiece emblazoned with a yellow “S”. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, then winced as electricity crackled through the earpiece. 

“Thank you for bringing him to me. I’m obliged to remind you that this lab is covered by the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s Secrecy Protection, and any infringement of that by local governments or private companies will result in immediate hearings,” Carlos told the Policewoman, stepping closer to the earpiece. She smiled weakly, and left. 

The intern and Carlos hauled Cecil up to Carlos’ apartment above the lab. After laying him gently on the couch, the intern stayed, fidgeting. 

“Um, Carlos?” she finally spit out. “I know we’re not supposed to know anything, but…” 

“The apartment is covered too,” Carlos interrupted, stomach churning. The intern gently took one of Cecil’s arms and carefully rolled up his shirtsleeves. Familiar marks around Cecil’s wrists made Carlos nauseous. 

“If what I remember from scouts is right, the basic bloodstone ritual won’t get rid of these rope burns. I think they used synthetic fibers. Try a wet ace bandage if he complains.” 

“Thank you,” Carlos sighed. “I think we’ll be good now, you should probably get home,” 

Once the nameless intern had left his apartment, Carlos sunk slowly to the ground, barely touching Cecil’s fingertips. While he wasn’t positive that StrexCorp knew what he and Cecil were into, he also didn’t doubt it. They owned the Sheriff’s Secret Police, and the SSP had stacks of paperwork detailing his and Cecil’s bedroom exploits. Strex easily could have rifled through their permits for handcuffs, gags, a riding crop, collars, and most extensively, rope. 

Cecil loved rope bondage. He told Carlos it made him feel secure, beautiful, chained to the reality that Carlos had chosen him. Carlos groaned. He was the one who had gotten Cecil into this. Even if it wasn’t some twisted irony on Strex’s part, they might have guessed. Would Cecil have started reacting? Oh god, It was his fault that Cecil knew exactly how good being tied up felt, he was the one who had introduced this all to him. Carlos gently touched the burns on Cecil’s wrists. They were bloody and irritated. Cecil jolted conscious with a gasp. 

“Shh, it’s okay baby, it’s just me now,” Carlos soothed, quickly grabbing Cecil’s hand to try to ground him. “You’re at my house, it’s all over Ceec. You’re safe.” Cecil twisted around, eventually falling off of the couch, onto Carlos. He began to whimper and shake. 

“Carlos,” he whined softly, “Help me.” 

“What do you need?” Carlos asked, trying to make Cecil stop twitching. 

“Bath,” was all that Cecil could say before he slumped again. 

Carlos felt like sobbing. He carefully picked Cecil up and walked him to the bathroom. While the water was running, he gingerly took off Cecil’s clothes. First his shoes and socks, then his pants. There were more rope burns around his ankles, and his knees were bloody and bruised, like he’d been forced to kneel. Then his tie, which was too tight on Cecil’s throat. The dress shirt was tricky, but Carlos eventually got it off without too much damage to Cecil’s wrists or biceps, which were also covered in rope burn. Undershirt next, which revealed bruises and what Carlos thought were cigarette burns around Cecil’s nipples. Then finally boxers. Carlos turned Cecil over, and what he saw made him gasp in horror. 

Cecil’s entire back, buttocks, and the back of his thighs were covered in deep whiplashes. Hundreds of lashes coated the back of the man Carlos loved. Some had cracked open again during Carlos’ attempt to undress Cecil. On the back of his neck was a burn mark, a single letter “S”. 

“Oh god Cecil,” Carlos murmured. “What did they do?” Gingerly, he picked Cecil up, hoisting him into the lukewarm water. Carlos quickly stripped down and climbed in the bath with him. Cecil was conscious again, mute and his eyes unfocused. He made no attempt to dissuade Carlos from wiping away dirt, blood and sweat with a washcloth. His silence was worse for Carlos than screaming would have been. 

After draining the bath, Carlos dried Cecil off. He got him dressed in an old pair of pajamas, and tucked him into bed. He called the station, letting the night shift intern know that Cecil would be gone for a few days, and under no circumstances to let anyone but an intern cover for him. When he finally got into bed himself, it was around midnight. Cecil was still awake, staring glassy eyed and shaking slightly. 

“Carino, please. You have to try to sleep,” Carlos whispered, brushing a light kiss onto Cecil’s temple. Slowly, Cecil closed his eyes. Carlos stayed awake all night. 

Cecil spent the next several days in Carlos’ bed. Carlos stayed with him. Nods became words, words became phrases, phrases became sentences. It wasn’t easy. There were times when Cecil would just burst into tears, and other times he’d try to start talking and abruptly stop. Carlos did his best to be understanding, but fear kept him awake and worried. Five nights later, while Carlos was cooking, Cecil shuffled into the kitchen, shirtless. 

“I think my back is infected,” he mumbled. “Can you look?” Carlos turned the stove off, and turned Cecil around. 

“Yeah,” Carlos decided. “You might have a minor infection on a few of these. The only way to clean them up is to use hydrogen peroxide, but it’ll sting pretty bad.” 

“Will you do it?” asked Cecil hopefully. “Please?” 

“Of course.” 

 

Carlos sat on the bathroom floor, hydrogen peroxide and cotton balls next to him. Cecil was in between Carlos’ legs, stripped down to boxers and socks. When Carlos first started dabbing at the lashes, Cecil let out a hiss of breath. 

“Sorry carino,” Carlos murmured, quickly removing the cotton ball. 

“It’s fine, babe,” Cecil steeled his breath. “You can start again, it just surprised me.” 

“Okay, I’m going to start applying it to the infected ones on your shoulder first,” Carlos explained. “Let me know if you need a break?” Cecil nodded. Carlos worked slowly, explaining exactly what he was doing to clean Cecil’s wounds. He moved from side to side, working his way down his back. He didn’t leave any wound untreated, worried that the uninfected ones would soon become infected. After Carlos was done applying the peroxide, they sat in silence, listening to the soft fizz of the chemical. 

“I suppose you want to know what happened,” Cecil said, clearing his throat to steady it. 

“I’m not going to lie,” Carlos stated after a pause, heart racing. “But if you can’t tell me, I won’t hold it against you.” There was a long silence. 

“I need to,” Cecil breathed. “I can’t keep it in anymore, and you’re the only one that I can tell.” He turned around, now facing Carlos. “Just please, Carlos, don’t hate me. I’m sorry.”

“I could never hate you, Cecil.” Carlos reassured, gently pressing a kiss to Cecil’s forehead. Cecil took a deep, steadying breath. 

“Daniel was the one who gave me the notice for reeducation. He said that since Strex bought the City Council, they were doing it in the building, in the old intern bunker. I thought that was fine, you know, about as normal as it gets with Daniel. After the afternoon show I went down to the bunker. I must not have been paying attention or something, I don’t know, but I got hit in the head when I turned a corner. When I came to, they had tied me up.” Here Cecil paused, looking up at Carlos with fear. 

“It wasn’t like what you do,” Cecil said in a small voice. “They had me on my knees, with my ankles tied. My arms were tied behind my back and sort of raised, it hurt really bad and the rope was really tight. Too tight. They, um, took my clothes off while I was unconscious too. So I was naked. And I don’t know how long they left me waiting, it was really dark and I thought I was alone. Until, um, someone came in.” Cecil stopped again, swallowing hard. 

“He told me I looked pretty tied up, like a- like a present,” Carlos’ stomach churned. He had called Cecil his little gift during scenes before.   
“He just stared at me for a while, smoking. Then he- he burned me. Seven times on each nipple, he made me count them out. Told me my chest looked like twin suns. That I was prettier that way. After that, things got rougher.” Cecil breathed deeply. Carlos squeezed his hand, a reminder that it was over now, nothing was going to hurt him right now. 

“He told me that a pretty mouth like mine could do better things than radio. He started taking off his clothes, and I told him no, but he didn’t listen. He slapped me when I refused to open my mouth, and then he choked me until I gasped, and then he shoved it in. I couldn’t breathe, I tried to bite down on it but he slapped me every time I tried, and, oh gods, Carlos, I am so sorry. I am so sorry,” Cecil began tearing up again, only to have Carlos gently touch his shoulders. 

“You never have to apologize for that. You didn’t consent; none of it was your fault.” Carlos wiped tears off of Cecil’s face. “If it’s too much right now, you don’t have to tell me,” 

“No, I want to finish telling you,” Cecil sniffled. “He finished on my face, and told me that I looked like a slut. He said that when sluts only used their mouths for talking and not for pleasing their owners they got punished. That’s when he brought out a whip.” Cecil’s eyes darkened. 

“He waited after every one. The whole time, he told me that I deserved this, that I used the radio for my own good and not the good of the community. He said that I never looked around or inside, I only ran off my mouth. He asked if I believed in a smiling God. He said he liked hearing me scream, that it made him want me even more, that he was glad he bought Lot 37,” Cecil had tears dripping down his face. He leaned into Carlos, forehead to chest. 

“He raped me,” Cecil whispered, barely audible. “He lubed himself up and raped me over and over and over. He came inside me and all over my back and oh gods, it hurt so bad when it got in the cuts, Carlos. When he was done, he told me he had to mark his property and he branded me with the ‘S”. Oh god, he owns me. He said he owns me, and that I’m going to be his toy whenever he wanted. That I was a slut, his slave. He said-“ Carlos cut Cecil off. 

“Cecil, no one is going to own you without your permission. I don’t know what’s happening at the station, but no one owns you. You own yourself.” 

“I feel dirty,” Cecil whispered. “I couldn’t stop it, it was like I wasn’t even real. It was like being cut open.” 

“I don’t think you’re dirty,” Carlos murmured, careful of his wording. “It might feel like that, but please, Cecil, I don’t think that you’re ruined or bad or anything. I’m worried. I want you to feel safe.” Cecil broke out into full sobs. Carlos tried to reassure him, but his sobs only worsened, until he was howling in anguish. This went on for what felt like eons, ages, millennia, until Carlos finally took Cecil’s face into his hands, making eye contact. Cecil trembled. 

“HE WAS A DOUBLE!” Cecil burst. “HE WAS YOUR DOUBLE! EVERYTIME HE MADE ME LOOK AT HIM, I SAW YOUR FACE, I SAW HIM HIT ME, AND CHOKE ME AND FORCE ME, AND IT LOOKED JUST LIKE YOU AND NOTHING LIKE YOU!”

Silence filled the space. Cecil was breathing heavily, gasping for air, collapsing into Carlos. Carlos had silent tears spilling down his face, desperately holding back sobs. This was hell, this was worse than death. He held Cecil, firmly, rocking him back and forth while the other man swallowed air into his tortured lungs. Eventually, Cecil managed to return to normal, hiccoughing, breathing. They sat in silence and in tears. They understood so much. About each other. About their fears. Silent promises were made to each other, and both understood them crystal clear. 

“His name is Romario, and he said he’d come back for more.” 

“Over my fucking dead body.”


End file.
